Till Tonight Do Us Part
by AdenFire
Summary: A short look into the mind of a young Sirius Black, as he and his friends discoved exactly what Remus is hiding. MWPP in 2nd year. Title taken from a Fall Out Boy Song.
1. Now Vs Then

Okay, people, this is my first story. Or, well, the first beginning of a story for me. It's not exactly finished, but I figured I'd see what sort of response I got from the general public before I took it too much farther. Please, review if you're up to it.

Also, I don't own any of this. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling, the wonderful woman that she is.

One last thing, this is written in Sirius's point of view.

* * *

"Sirius, what's wrong?" 

I jerk my head in the direction of the question, unable to identify the voice from which it came. That's the shame about summers, if you don't see someone for a straight two months, voices and faces can become drastically squashed together in your mind. And since I have neither seen nor heard James, Remus, or Peter all summer, I was unsure as to who had questioned me. "What?" I repeat, acting as if the missed question was entirely my inattentiveness' fault.

"I asked what's wrong. You've been quieter than Remus the whole trip," James replies. He stares at me strangely, as if he's attempting to see what is going on inside my head. If that were to happen, I'd probably take a long walk off a short pier. I don't think I could bear all of my friends' understanding and pity.

So, in response to James, I shrug. "I'm just a little tired," I say, shrugging again. If that were the truth it would be no big deal, but the truth and I don't get along well while I'm dealing with my friends. I've often had to lie to them to protect some odd thing that happened in my family, usually dealing with elf beheadings and "proper punishment" for children. At that thought, I shivered, cursing myself the second afterwards. Now I've got all eyes on me. _Wonderful._

James opens his mouth again, but ever perceptive Remus cuts him off before any words have left his mouth. "So, did anyone else find the assigned reading for Defense Against the Dark Arts interesting?" He asks, bringing up one of his best classes as a subject change. Sometimes I wonder what makes that boy tick. In all honesty, I could never get myself half as focused on school work as Remus is when he's barely paying attention.

"Yeah," Peter says excitedly, obviously happy to be included in the conversation. "I even read ahead!" He's practically bouncing, so happy to have something to say. I smile at it, realizing how much I had missed his occasionally irritating eagerness over the summer.

James rolls his eyes, and I feel like glaring, but I refrain, not wanting to cause a fight of sorts. It is, sadly, rather hard to defend Peter when the boy does nothing to defend himself. But, I'm pulled from my thoughts again as James says, "It's rather pointless to assign us any summer work in that subject, seeing as how the position is cursed."

"But, we have to do some schoolwork over the summer or we'll never make it through the entire assigned curriculum!" Remus says, always defending everything to do with the D.A.D.A. position. I almost laugh, I forgot that when Remus gets passionate about something, he's voice rises in pitch just a little, and his cheeks always flush afterwards. Poor boy, I think he's hitting puberty harder and earlier than the rest of us.

"Okay, Remus, settle," James says, smiling. "I did find some parts of the reading interesting. Did you guys read the section of werewolves?"

I nod, Peter nods with a passion, and Remus barely moves his head. His face has gone white, bypassing pale, as well as go, and failing to collect the two-hundred dollars. I raise and eyebrow at his peculiar actions, but I say nothing. I don't want to embarrass him if he's hiding something. If I point it out, whatever the secret is will become the topic of the hour. So, I bite my tongue, literally.


	2. Who Knows Someone I Once Knew

Hello again. Thank you to the people who were nice enough to review. Here's the second chapter, which is as short as the first because I am posting as I write and I only wirte a little at a time.

I still own nothing, and this is still from Sirius's point of view.

* * *

The lamps in the corridors of the Hogwarts Express have all been lit. My friends and I have only finished changing when I see Hogsmeade Station come into view. The train pulls to a screeching halt. Peter winces and then whimpers quietly. James closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then goes on about his business like nothing had happened. Remus's reaction, however, sparks my interest for some reason. 

First, Remus jumps about a mile. He closes his eyes in break-neck time, clenches his fists, and bites down on his lip. His face is as pale as ever. Has he ever been this sensitive to noise before? Or, is this a new development? I chance a glance at Peter and James; neither of them appear to have noticed that Remus looks as if he is about to scream out in anguish. Just as I open my mouth to question the boy about this, his face is wiped of all pain. He smiles at me, timid at first, but a true smile once he knows that I'm not calling all the attention in the room to him.

Remus must be hiding something. The clogs of my brain begin to turn, producing many theories, each as wild as the next. It is only when I hear Peter calling my name that snaps out of my reverie.

Together, my friends and I step off the train. We follow the crowd of older students toward a fleet of horseless carriages. Peter looks around curiously, then tugs on my sleeve. "Sirius," He says, his whispering voice giving away his worry, "What kind of horse is that?"

I glance around, trying to see what horse Peter was talking about. I don't see anything that even resembles a horse, and I tell Peter so. He stammers on about skeletal horses with bat-like wings, but I still fail to spot one. Exasperated, having overheard our whispered conversation, James asks Peter, "Where are these things, then?"

Peter points a shaking finger to the front of the carriage. "Peter," I say, as gently as I could manage, "There isn't anything. The carriages pull themselves."

"No, no, Peter's got it right," Remus says quietly. "I can see them too. Big horse-like things, with wings and a dragon's face, right Pete? Yeah, those are thestrals." He smiled at Peter, attempting to cheer him up, and probably to convince him that he wasn't crazy.

James, however, isn't having any of it. "Is this some joke you guys planned together over the holidays? There's _nothing_ there!"

"Yes, there is!" Remus insists. I can tell he is angry; his vocal pitch has increased by quite a few notes. I am reminded again that he is probably hitting puberty. I feel like a prat for a moment as I wish that my voice never changed like that.

"Well, then, _Professor_ Lupin, why can you and Peter see them, but Sirius and I can't?" James asks, his eyes flashing. James has always had a short temper, and I suppose being cooped up for two months at his parents house being spoiled rotten hasn't helped him to remember his manners.

Remus looks ready to throttle James on the spot, and I feel that I should be prepared to break up any fight that might occur. Then, oddly, all of the anger melts from Remus's face. He looks simply tired. His voice is slightly hoarse and deeper than I remember it being on the journey to school as he tells James, "Only people who have witnessed the death of a fellow human being can see a thestral." James was oddly quiet until we reached the Grand Hall.

Taking our seats at the Gryffindor Table, the four of us sit in a relatively uncomfortable silence. I stare at the bewitched ceiling, watching the dark storm clouds above. There is a bolt of lightning at the precise moment that Professor McGonagall burst into the room. Whispers and murmurs quietly envelope the Hall as the herd of timid first years glance nervously about it. My eyes glide about the group until they reach their mark and freeze upon one single child.

My brother, Regulus, is standing on the outskirts of the gaggle. He looks ill; he's obviously trying very hard to keep the worry form his face. I had neglected to give my darling younger brother word to sooth his mind this morning, partly because he had been acting like a spoiled brat all summer, and partly because I'd forgotten how nerve racking the Sorting is. One year's time, and suddenly a person can forget the sweaty palms, the nausea, and the reeling mind. The worry about where you were place, causing your head to spin like a top. I mean, come on, of course it is making him ill! Regulus is doing like every other student to come through the doors of Hogwarts; he's allowing _a hat_ to make a decision that could affect his entire life! How could I have forgotten about these feelings? They still plague me to this very day!

Then again, Regulus is a berk. Let him suffer, he deserves to be equal with everyone else.

Professor McGonagall was now calling out the names of each student. I'm not really in the mood to listen to the sorting; my brain keeps drifting back to Remus on the train. What made him react to violently to the screeching of the train? How does he know so much about thestrals? Why does he seem so different this term? Has the separation made me look at all of my friends in a different light, or have they really changed?

"Black, Regulus!" Calls out McGonagall, her voice zapping me unwillingly back into reality.

The hat considers for a moment, the cries out, "SLYTHERIN!" The Slytherin table cheers and my little brother scurries over to join the lot of them.

I pretend to pay rapt attention to the rest of the Sorting Ceremony to avoid the questions that I know my friends are forming. I'm not really feeling up to discussing the pure-blood mania and further bigotry of the Black family. I don't want to hear Remus's pity as he tells me that my brother will still turn out alright. But most of all, I don't want to talk to James because I'd rather not bring up the fight we'd had at the beginning of last school year when he thought that I belonged in the house that my sibling had just been sorted into.


End file.
